Image from page 206 of “Uncle Tom’s cabin : or, Life among the lowly” (1852)

Image from page 206 of “Uncle Tom’s cabin : or, Life among the lowly” (1852)
Healing Arts
Identifier: uncletomscabinor02stow
Title: Uncle Tom’s cabin : or, Life among the lowly
Year: 1852 (1850s)
Authors: Stowe, Harriet Beecher, 1811-1896
Subjects: Uncle Tom (Fictitious character) Master and servant African Americans Fugitive slaves Plantation life Slavery Slaves
Publisher: Boston : John P. Jewett & Co. Cleveland : Jewett, Proctor & Worthington
Contributing Library: Boston Public Library
Digitizing Sponsor: Boston Public Library

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Text Appearing Before Image:
ng that are yet alive. — Eccl. 4 : 1. It was late at night, and Tom lay groaning and bleedingalone, m an old forsaken room of the gin-house, among piecesof broken machinery, piles of damaged cotton, and otherTubbish which had there accumulated. The night was damp and close, and the thick air swarmedwith myriads of mosquitos, which increased the restlesstorture of his wounds; whilst a burning thirst — a torturebeyond all others—filled up the uttermost measure of physicalanguish. 0, good Lord! Do look down,— give me the victory ! —give me the victory over all! prayed poor Tom, in hisanguish. A footstep entered the room, behind him, and the light ofa lantern flashed on his eyes. Whos there ? 0, for the Lords massy, please giveme some water ! The woman Cassy—for it was she—set down her lantern,and, pouring water from a bottle, raised his head, and gavehim drink. Another and another cup were drained, withfeverish eagerness. Drink all ye want, she said; I knew how it would be.

Text Appearing After Image:
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY. 199 It is nt the first time I ve been out in the night, carryingwater to such as you. Thank you, Missis, said Tom, when he had donedrinking. Dont call me Missis! Ima miserable slave, like your-self,— a lower one than you can ever be! said she, bitterly;but now, said she, going to the door, and dragging in asmall pallaise, over which she had spread linen cloths wetwith cold water, try, my poor fellow, to roll yourself on tothis. Stiff with wounds and bruises, Tom was a long time inaccomplishing this movement; but, when done, he felt asensible relief from the cooling application to his wounds. The woman, whom long practice with the victims ofbrutality had made familiar with many healing arts, went onto make many applications to Toms wounds, by means ofwhich he was soon somewhat relieved. Now, said the woman, when she had raised his head ona roll of damaged cotton, which served for a pillow, theresthe best I can do for you. Tom thanked her; and the woman, sitting

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